


Not sorry at all

by Ex-Genesis (orphan_account)



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: Angst, Incest, M/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-27
Updated: 2010-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ex-Genesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can I Have A Kiss" by Kelly Clarkson</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not sorry at all

__ Excuse me for this  
I just want a kiss  
I just want to know what it feels like to touch  
Something so pure  
Something I'm so sure of  
What it feels like to stand outside your door  
I'm unworthy  
I can see you're above me  
But I can be lovely given the chance 

__ Don't move  
I want to remember you just like this  
Don't move  
It's only a breath or two between our lips 

Fingers grazing across lips, rubbing like there was some sort of film over them, residue left over by a piece of duct tape just ripped off. The pain was there too, that buzzing numbness that seemed to travel through his jaw on a low-key level. Brown eyes squinting slightly behind glasses, creased at the corners in concentration. A line of perspiration slowly creeping out from his dark hair.

It was summer, and it was the morning, with the sun already breaking its way in between blinds that hung from the tops of windows. Four in the morning... It was way too early for this. Not being up. Not walking down the hall in his wrinkled white v-neck, his worn-the-other-day black jeans, and his pointed-toe boots that were clever enough to not make him look so bow-legged in pictures, like he did otherwise. It was too early to be upset, to want to go home, a home he didn't have, by himself, where he could just be away from - just be away. That was just from the perspective of morning.

Early. What else was too early? In life? To be in love. To want a family. To kiss someone and know you'll never want another kiss from anyone else again. To take someone - to have to take someone - to a motel just to be alone for a few minutes so there can be a discussion so serious. To feel that strand was about to snap, the one that kept them living on. It was too early in life to know he didn't deserve the person that he wanted, that he would never be enough, no matter how hard he tried.

Fuck if he'd known - but he had. He had known before he even entered the room that night. Was it a mistake to give Nick the key and tell him to head into the room while he walked around the pool with the other room key in his jacket pocket while his hands were fisted within his pant-pockets, and he considered jumping into the pool and holding himself down until the air was forced from his lungs and water took its place? Probably, seeing as he had turned up to the room, drenched, water dripping off the end of his hair, a ruined jacket, ruined shoes, a see-through shirt, and pants that weighed him down, though not nearly as much as his own thoughts.

He was stupid for jumping in. He was stupid for gripping the white wall step-ladder that led up from the water to the paddock. He was stupid for opening his eyes and watching the bubbles slip one by one from between his lips as he lost control as seconds moved passed him, even as they stung. Later on, he would think he was even more stupid for letting go, pushing off the bottom with his feet, scrambling to the surface, inhaling until his lungs felt like they were going to expand out of his stomach, and explode. For not calling a taxi and just going back to the hotel to tell Nick in the morning, that he was sorry, it was just a prank, and Nick could get him back, worse, if he wanted.

Standing outside the door that would open and reveal Nick, that night, Joe had tried not to breathe, but his chest was heaving. Even as he had almost drowned himself, he had not stopped to rest once out of the pool, but had run to the motel room he had made Nick go to, by himself. Joe had placed his palm, shining in the too-bright light of the wall sconces, flat against the door, letting his head droop down against the wood, breathing heavily against it as he reached in his pocket with his other hand, and pulled out the key. Sliding it, waiting for the beep to signify it had computer, Joe sighed, his eyes closing, then opening only as he pulled the handle down and pushed forward, standing up right as he took his first step into the dim room. He had hoped it would be as dark as it had been outside. But what was he expecting? Nick to just sit there in the dark, waiting for him?

As Joe looked up to the bed Nick was sitting on, he barely caught Nick's curious-and-worried over-looking before Nick was smirking, like Joe was some stupid five-year-old who had fallen into a tub of bathwater. Joe just shook his head, and the smirk fell right off his brother's lips. Nick never... He never meant to hurt Joe's feelings. Joe had always known that, but it still happened, and Joe never felt like he could be worth much to Nick, that there were a million things better than him. That's why he clung so hard to the pieces of Nick he did have, because if he ever let go, Nick would find something else - someone else, someone better, to hold on to him. He didn't know if he could live with that. So he always over-stepped, always crossed those lines, and Nick liked to be needed, which Joe was well aware, and so he _let_ Joe cling to him.

The thought that Nick didn't actually want him, just wanted his neediness, his stupid, child-like demeanor always made Joe feel like some kind of drone, an empty being, like he was just there to please people, but once his shine wore off, he would be of no value. He had to know. He finally had to know. If there was going to be a time when he would be worth it to Nick. If there was going to be a time he would be kicked to the side. He just wanted to be prepared. Was that asking so much?

Probably, seeing as he went to ask for another room that night after calling their parents and letting them know they just wanted to crash for a while, and would be back to the hotel in the morning, ready to go - almost ready to go.

_I know why you left_  
I can't blame you myself  
Must be hard living with ghosts and such an empty shell  
I tried to warn you  
I've been a mess since you've known me  
I can't promise forever  
But I'm working on it  
If I can't hold you  
Can I give you a kiss  
Can I have a kiss 

_I see that you're torn  
I've got some scars of my own  
Seems I want what I know is gonna leave me hungry_

Sun stretching across him like another blanket, over-heating. Arms and legs stiff from sleeping in a tight ball, trying to make himself a fort unto himself. As watering as he opened them, stretching, feeling the knot of shirt digging into his back from twisting and turning all night long.

Most mornings he wouldn't wake up this early without someone tugging him out of bed, promising coffee mixed with Red Bull, poking him in the side to either make him laugh, or make him angry enough to really wake him up; it depended on the day. Most mornings he wouldn't be so alone. Most mornings he wouldn't open his eyes to yellowing walls, to too-old sheets and blankets that looked like their time was over-due. Most mornings he wouldn't wish the other night hadn't happened. That was just from the perspective of the morning.

Wouldn't happen. What else wouldn't normally happen in a person's life? Normally a person wouldn't have to deal with these feelings, ones so inexplicable. Ones that hurt their head to think about, not because it was so complicated, but because it seemed so simple, so simply reject-able. To feel like everything weighed on one decision, whether they loved someone or not. To wonder if they were going to Hell for something they never meant to happen, something they couldn't control.

If only he'd seen - but he had, and it hadn't made any difference, not even as he held his hands out in front of him, waving them like ground crew members at an airport. What was he supposed to do to stop it? He wasn't going to hurt Joe, never on purpose, not for anything. He would never lay a finger on Joe in a way that was meant to cause harm. It had seemed that there were few options, like the clock on the nightstand was clicking in it's non-digital simplicity to a moment of no return. What was Nick supposed to have done, exactly?

Joe had entered the room looking as though a cloud had dumped itself over the top of him, and at first, Nick had found it rather funny, until Joe had shaken his head, and Nick had realized... Whatever had happened, it hadn't been good, or fun. It had hurt, and Nick wasn't going to hurt Joe emotionally either, if he could refrain. Asking what had happened wasn't going to do any good, Nick knew, so he kept his mouth shut as he had climbed off the bed, feet with shoes still on, scuffing a little across the dark carpet toward Joe, his hand held out as he got closer, readying himself to place it comfortingly on Joe's shoulder.

Feeling his hand being taken by Joe's wet one, cold, like wet death, was strange when it had never felt so out of place before. Yet somehow, in the way Joe gripped it, his thumb in the center of Nick's hand, the point of his middle finger pressing into the middle of Nick's wrist like the nail drilled in to Jesus' as he was hung from the cross, it seemed like Nick needed it. Somehow he was supposed to be comforting Joe, when all he needed was Joe's touch and he felt safer, having not realized before that he was in any kind of danger.

When Nick could pull his eyes away from their hands, his own turning white under Joe's pressure, not hurting, just there, he came into contact with Joes'. Those dark brown eyes had been digging into him, shovel, pull, shovel, pull, and it was like he was a guitar string being lifted by fingers, only to be thrown back at the board beneath. Maybe it didn't hurt, still, but it had certainly stung. What did hurt was the ache that was in Joe's voice as he spoke Nick's name, finally earning his right to breathe again. It was all Joe had said before he had leaned in, mouth too close.

That was when Nick had pulled away, hand wrenching out from Joe's as he waved his arms in front of him, backing up, telling Joe not to, please, just don't. It had been one of those times that Nick wished there was a wall surrounding him, so nothing could get in, but more importantly, nothing could get out. With everything he had in him, he fought, and he fought, but in the end... Should he have let Joe press a soft, but earnest kiss to his lips?

__ All I have  
All I can give to you I will  
Just promise this  
If I can't have forever  
Can I have a kiss 

Probably, seeing as when he did, there seemed to be this moment of clarity for him, like the world made more sense, and everything he'd ever questioned had an answer, like he'd never even need to worry about anything ever again.

That was when Joe walked out. Right after that moment, when Nick felt at peace, for once in his life. That was the part that really broke Joe's heart, though. He had that same moment - perfect moment, of everything belonging, even himself. They both wanted to feel that way forever, but to him, it was impossible. Without letting Nick jump in, he left. Nick had stood there for a few moments before falling on the bad, curling up into himself, not caring that the light was too bright or that he wouldn't sleep well, because Joe had left him. After making him feel complete, he had made him feel empty just as quick.

That morning when the door somewhere near his closed, too loud, just loud enough, Nick woke up, grabbing his room key from the night stand, darting into the hall as quickly as possible, seeing Joe's back heading out to the small lobby. Nick ran as quickly as he could with his body so stiff, with his heart pounding so loud that he couldn't hear his own feet ramming into the ground with every step.

As he stepped into the lobby himself, he started running toward Joe, who was walking out of the glass door, to the parking lot, but stopped himself, skidding on the tile floor, almost falling, but stopping himself just soon enough. His muscles were crying at him as he took leaping steps to the desk and handed the woman behind it his room key, mumbling out a thank you that even he couldn't hear. As she accepted it, he didn't notice.

Everything in he had within him was yelling at him, telling him he had to get to Joe before Joe left, before they could pretend last night didn't happen, before everything they had put out on the table last night vanished, because Nick couldn't think of anything worse than not having Joe with him, forever. He ran like his life depended on it, and maybe it did, that life that included Joe, his best friend, everything he needed and wanted, and would maybe forget to cherish now and again, but would always be proud of, and would always come back home to.

Joe was determined, walking pointedly to a taxi that was waiting just beside the broken, crumbling sidewalk. He couldn't scream out Joe's name, and that probably wouldn't have stopped him anyway, but Nick was going the fastest he could, and he eventually reach Joe even though it had felt like the distance of a lifetime.

Grabbing Joe's shoulders, he forced his brother to turn around, looked him in the down-shot eyes, and then pressed a kiss to Joe's lips. It had taken a second, just a second, for him to express everything he needed to say, asking Joe to try once more, that if Nick couldn't have that feeling, that peace from last night, for the rest of his life and beyond, to just let him have it for one more moment, begging, pleading in a way that Joe understood, but left him confused. He still didn't understand. Didn't understand until he felt Nick's lips on his, like it was a piece of himself that was missing, and Joe finally felt it, the reciprocation, that he wasn't alone, that Nick needed him just as much as Joe needed Nick, that they completed each other. It made him worthy.


End file.
